Unlikeliest of Lovers
by Feline-Overlord
Summary: Galacta Knight wants to re-claim his title after being defeated by Meta Knight - but soon enough, he has to deal with a painful truth instead. Meanwhile, Meta Knight struggles with his past and decisions he regrets bitterly. Both try to deal with growing emotions neither wants to have - can they overcome pride or is there no happy ending for them? (Gijinka, MKxGK)
1. Fateful Decision

The sound of running water cut through the silence of the forest, adding noise to the coulisse of birds singing and the quiet rustle of small mammals. The source of the noise was a small brook, surrounded by thick bushes and lush, green grass. The flow of the water had been blocked downstream, causing it to flood the surrounding undergrowth. The blockade lay sprawled and unconscious in the streambed: A body.

Limp and soaked, with ribbons of blood forming around it, before the running water carried them away. A pair of feathered wings, once white and now grey from the water, lay bent under his form. The bushes on the banks were crushed and even the brook's pebble covered bed had a slight dip in it, a sign that the body had hit the ground with a lot of force.

A small bird landed on the fallen one's chest, on the platinum armor that was covered in dents and scratches. It hopped forward and carefully picked on the shoulder-long, dark pink hair that had fallen over the masked face, then moved on to the golden horns protruding from the warrior's head. A sudden twitch of the seemingly dead person startled the small animal and it flew off with a loud alarm call. The warrior twitched again. Subtle, barely noticeable. But his chest rose and fell steadily, an obvious sign he was alive after all.

His eyes opened with some difficulty, and he let out a small hiss, half from the brightness, half from the pain. He had to focus!  
Moving seemed like an impossible task, and having both his clothes and wings soaked and heavy didn't make it any easier. At least he didn't seem to have broken any bones - or maybe they had healed already, he had always been one to recover fast. Slowly, very slowly and with his face distorted in a pained grimace, he braced both hands against the pebbles under him and, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of cold water and mud between his fingers, pushed himself into a sitting position.

His head spun and it took a lot of physical and mental strength not to just collapse again, but he managed. He looked his body over - the parts not covered by the armor had been bruised and cut, the armor itself showed obvious signs of abuse, too. Not good.  
He scanned his surroundings: Trees, spaced far apart and their branches covered in thick, green foliage. Bushes and flowers growing under them in the lush, cool grass. Sunlight filtered through the leaves brightly. The air felt sweet and warm, almost suffocatingly dusty, too. As beautiful as the scenery was, he still sat in a brook, wounded and awfully vulnerable. He would have to do something about that.

Some of the water had dripped out of his wings and clothes by now, so it was a little easier to get up. He swayed and stumbled, dizziness filling his head and he just barely managed to grab a low-hanging branch of a nearby beech to lean on.  
'_Dammit_,' he cursed silently.

It took almost five minutes - maybe longer, he couldn't be sure - for his head to stop spinning. Once he was sure he wouldn't fall again, he let go of the branch and stepped out of the brook. The sun had already begun to dry him and the warmth was a pleasant relief for his aching muscles. He needed to find a way to deal with his wounds though. Those wounds...

His memory was hazy, but he could recall being... immobilized of sorts, enclosed by something hard and cool. Then he was fighting, but that wasn't unusual. He fought a lot, he had to defend his title as the Greatest Warrior of the Universe. He froze, wings tense. If he was here like this...  
A cold feeling of dread slowly grew in his belly and not even the hot sun could warm it: If he had lost a battle, he had lost his title. The king would reject him, his comrades would shun him, he would lose everything.

His head started to spin again, but he refused to let go of those worrying thoughts. He could... go and reclaim it, perhaps? If he found the new Greatest Warrior of the Universe, he could challenge them and take his title back. Yes. He would do that. And quick, before the message of his defeat reached his home.

A few confident steps later showed him that this wouldn't be so easy. He nearly doubled over in pain, head going light from blood loss again. He needed to get his injuries sorted out first. Once more he scanned his surroundings and found that only a few meters to his left, the trees seemed to thin out. Getting out of this forest would mean progress. With a careful, slow pace, he started walking.  
Occasionally, he would have to grab branches or tree trunks, but all in all, this worked out better than he had thought. Then he reached the last tree.

In front of him lay a wide, open space of dry grass, criss crossed by dirt paths. His gaze found a village, houses that looked like they had huddled together at the foot of a small hill. And on top of that hill, a castle. The warrior almost sighed in relief. A castle meant knights. Knights following the code of chivalry meant he would find help. And as ungraceful as it might be for the former Greatest Warrior of the Universe to ask for assistance, he didn't wish to die from blood loss, alone in some woods far away from his home. He briefly considered the possibility that the knights on this planet might not follow the Code; he hadn't been here before, he couldn't be certain... Then his wings bristled and he pushed the thought aside.

His king had taken control of the majority of the universe and enforced the law that knights had to follow the Code. He nodded slightly to himself, then started walking. The sun burnt down on him, but at least it dried him. He felt thirsty soon, and tired also, but instead of taking the shorter way through the village, he walked around it and directly to the castle. One might call him foolish, but his already badly damaged pride wouldn't let him be seen publicly.

He reached the foot of the hill; a broad, sandy road led upwards. He paused for a moment to catch his breath; he had started sweating and a small voice in his head told him that the sun wasn't the only thing that caused it. He really didn't need a fever from an infected injury on top of it all now! But no, his pride wouldn't let him show weakness anyway; he forced his body to straighten, even lifting his wings a little, before he started to walk again.

The loose earth made crunching noises under his feet; grass hoppers chirped in the grass on both sides of the path. The warrior kept his gaze locked on his goal, the castle. He stumbled, head spinning once more, but something - his pride again, most likely - made him able to catch himself before he could fall. His vision swam with black dots. Just a little further now.

The draw-bridge came into sight. Conveniently, it hadn't been pulled up, so he could cross easily. The lack of guards puzzled him, but he decided that it wasn't his job to criticize how things were run around here. With his gaze set straight ahead, he continued walking. A fountain came into sight and on the grass around it, two boys were playing ball. Something about the smaller kid, one with light pink hair, seemed oddly fascinating to the warrior. But he had to focus on the matter at hand for now. Neither child paid him much mind and he proceeded.

"Hey, you there!," a voice called out.

He frowned at the unrespectful address and turned around. A girl glowered at him; she couldn't be older than ten or eleven, she was significantly smaller than him, yet didn't show any signs of being intimidated.

Instead, she looked up at him through her blonde bangs and asked: "What do you think you're doing here?"

The warrior's frown deepened, but he bit back an angry reply. In lieu thereof, he used his best diplomatic voice to talk.

"I wish to speak to the head of this castle's knights."

The girl didn't seem very fazed. Her arms unfolded and she rested her hands on her hips instead: "Sir Meta Knight, I guess. And what should I tell him who is asking for him?"

The warrior stiffened. Meta Knight? That name! He had fought - _lost to_ - Meta Knight! The images flashed in his light, feverish mind clearly and he let out a small growl of anger. As usual, his pride got the better of him and as arrogant as he could muster in his state, he said: "Tell Sir Meta Knight that Galacta Knight is here."

And then the physical exhaustion got the better of him. He fought it, he had to stay awake, he-  
But his knees gave in, Galacta Knight collapsed and the merciful waves of unconsciousness swallowed him.

* * *

Meta Knight sat in his room in castle Dedede, on the very edge of his bed. Bright sunlight fell through the window; he guessed it was quite the warm summer day, but the inside of castle was cool as always, sheltered by the thick stone walls. Sword and Blade had been sent out to patrol the castle already.

Meta Knight was glad they didn't let their curiosity show too much. After all, he had been gone for weeks and only returned the previous evening, but he was not yet sure just how much he really wanted his knaves - or anyone for that matter - to know about his 'adventure'. And most of all, he didn't want to be watched while he changed the bandages on his wounds. He felt it would make him... vulnerable, even if the ones watching were those closest to him.  
Meta was not a very trusting person.

An open box stood next to him and gauze, tape, bandages, a bottle of disinfectant and a few other things lay scattered around on the sheets. He listened carefully for a moment and, when he was sure no one would barge into his room unexpectedly, took off his armour and the shirt beneath. His fingers ran over his bruises, most of them probably turning yellow already. They littered his arms and a few also marred the scarred skin on his upper body. Surprisingly enough, his legs had made it with little to no wounds.

He had gotten a few slashes, now covered in bandages that had become soaked with blood in some parts, on his arm - not the one he used to wield Galaxia with, luckily - and a single deep gash that led from his shoulder down to his rib-cage further over his side to his back, where it quickly grew more shallow before ending. A lance beam had caused it while he had been busy avoiding a tornado the other warrior had summoned. Meta Knight frowned under his mask.

Galacta Knight, if he remembered correctly. He had been strong. His hand went up to brush a few strands of blue hair out of his face, then he set to work. He started with the arms and carefully peeled off the blood-stained gauze, tossing it into the bin that stood by his feet. Of course Galacta Knight would have been strong, he had been the Greatest Warrior of the Universe.

And that title, it was his now. When exactly had it been created? He had lived for thousands of years already and never heard of it until now. It had to be ancient.  
The knight flinched slightly at the sting of the antiseptic when he cleaned out the cuts with a small piece of cloth drenched in the liquid. His nose wrinkled at the smell, so sharp and unnatural. Ignoring the unpleasant sensation for now, he started to re-wrap the injuries, then took off the old bandages crossing his chest.

What did the title even mean? He was the strongest now, obviously, but he supposed it wouldn't make much difference around here. He was still debating if he should even tell anyone; as proud as he was, telling everyone what he had done might very well cause people to pester him, get careless or even fear him. None of that sounded appealing to him.

His thoughts were interrupted when his fingers brushed over a specific part of his now exposed skin, right below his ribs. It felt cold, almost as if it was a chunk of dead flesh stuck in his body. All thoughts of his new achievement were forgotten. Meta Knight ran his fingers over the spot again and again, not caring that the motion was re-opening the gash next to it. Shame, hot and prickly like thorns, seared through his mind. His fingers arched, digging into the flesh.  
A small, half-repressed gasp of pain escaped him, but it came from the wound, not the cold part. He couldn't feel anything there, nothing at all. Shame. It filled his heart, making it painful to think, to even breath. His head dipped slightly. He would never lose this mark, yet he wasn't even strong enough to turn his face toward it, this proof of what he had done in the past...

Abruptly, he stopped himself and shoved all these thoughts into the furthest corner of his mind - he had no time to deal with them now. With a jerky motion, he pulled his hand back. Blood stained the fingertips red and he frowned at the wet feeling. He had to keep himself under control, actions like this would do his healing no good and the citizens of Dreamland needed him strong.

With quick, skilled movements, he cleaned the gash, then wrapped it in a new layer of gauze. He slipped into his shirt, put on the armour, his boots, the gloves. There, all set. Just as he finished packing up the medical supplies, something caught his attention. A foreign presence close by?

Like all Star Warriors, he could sense when another one of his kind came close to him. Kirby's presence was a bright dot in his subconsciousness - sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker, depending on how close the boy was to him. He had gotten used to it, but now something way more powerful had shown up. Had it been a light, it would have been a glaring, harsh one, something that demanded admiration and had an effect similar to the one a lamp had to a moth.  
Meta Knight felt something, an ancient instinct, pulling him toward this new presence. But he and Kirby were the last Star Warriors around. The last except for...

"Galacta Knight," he said aloud, an obvious sign how unsettling he found this to be; he wasn't one to talk much unless needed. If Galacta Knight was here, did that mean he wanted revenge? That would put the castle's residents in danger, and they didn't even know who they were encountering!

That thought was enough to send Meta Knight running. He didn't even take time to wrap his cape around himself as he usually did. A few Waddle Dees crossed his path, staring up at his taller frame with large, black eyes. The knight didn't pay them any mind. He tried to locate where exactly Galacta Knight was in the castle, but while he did, his presence grew... weaker? He wasn't sure if this was a good sign, or if it meant anything at all, but he had no time to think about that now. He concentrated as good as he could without losing focus on running - he didn't want to run head-first into a wall, that would have been more than humiliating - and ah, yes, the courtyard, somewhere at the fountain.

The courtyard was lined with archways that would provide shadows he could hide in and assess the situation. Good. There, the large opening to the courtyard lay directly in front of him. He slowed down a bit and quickly grabbed the corners of his cape to wrap it around himself; much better. With quiet steps, he walked over to the closest archway and stood in the shadow it granted generously. He peered around the corner carefully and blinked against the harsh sunlight that shone warm and hot onto his face, blending him at first.

"Tell Sir Meta Knight that Galacta Knight is here."

The knight stiffened ever so slightly. He still couldn't see anything but due to the glaring light, but he would recognize that voice anywhere: Galacta Knight, doubtlessly. A voice a bit like a snake dozing in the sun, soft, but ready to lash out any second. To hear it again after their battle sent a small shiver down his spine, one he wasn't sure if it was pleasant.

His hand strayed toward Galaxia's hilt, cape falling open in the process. He wouldn't attack unless Galacta showed open hostility, but he would not be unprepared either. To his surprise, the winged warrior did not say anything else. Instead, a dull thud was heard as he wobbled and collapsed. Meta Knight took a step forward.

"What-? !," whoever the winged knight had been talking to exclaimed and the knight recognized the voice as Fumu's, the Cabinet Minister's daughter. Meta couldn't help a small sigh - this girl always got herself into trouble a child her age should stay away from, didn't she? He jumped down from the paved path around the archway and landed on the grass below. With quick, but calm steps, he approached the girl and the fallen Star Warrior.

Galacta's presence had turned into a weak glimmer in Meta Knight's mind, an obvious sign he was passed out for real. That was... good, in a way, at least he could be sure that this wasn't a trick of some sort.

"Fumu."

The girl turned around, ponytail flying: "Sir Meta Knight, I-"

He held out a hand to silence her and, surprisingly enough, she obeyed and fell quiet. Meta Knight crouched down on one knee and examined the other, one hand running over the limp form quickly. Galacta wasn't in a good shape. His wings hung limp and dirty, streaked with mud and leaves stuck between the feathers. He had landed face-down and for a moment, it seemed as if he wasn't breathing.

But when Meta Knight checked, the glimmer, though weak, remained in his mind and after a few seconds, he spotted the weak rising and abrupt falling of Galacta's back. His fingertips brushed over the other's armor briefly - it was battered, probably just like his arms and legs. The wounds didn't seem like they had been cleaned in any way and suddenly Meta Knight felt guilty for not thinking of his opponent's fate at all after the battle. Surely the Greatest Warrior of the Universe would be supposed to have the inner greatness of offering help to his defeated opponents?

But if Galacta decided to reclaim his title, helping him to recover might prove to be a fatal error. He didn't know anything about this warrior's personality. For all he knew, he could be a ruthless, egoistical psychopath. But still...

He glanced back at Fumu. The girl stood in the same spot as before, wringing her dress in her hands now. Hidden under his mask, his inner struggle showed on his features. Dear NOVA, why didn't the Code of Chivalry cover the time _after_ battles?

"Fumu," he said finally and forced all hesitation out of his voice, "Please go and get your mother and if you can, a few Waddle Dees who have experience in the medical area. Take them to the guest room on the third floor." He heard her open her mouth and breathing in to protest, but she seemed to think better of it. With a firm nod, she turned around and ran off; her sandals made loud, clacking noises when she reached the stone path that led inside.

Meta Knight watched her go, then turned back toward Galacta. He really hoped he hadn't made a mistake.


	2. A Glimpse of the Past

"Is he awake yet?"

Voices...

Galacta's mind seemed to surface from a bottomless blackness. He felt numb; his breath echoed in his ears, deafeningly loud.

"No."

The voices fell silent; he heard footsteps and then a door fell shut. Galacta tried to move, but lost his grip on his thoughts. His mind slipped back into darkness.

Moments later - well, he guessed it was moments, it could have been days for all he knew - Galacta came to a second time. He could hear someone breathing close to him. Then a rustle of textile, the sound of someone re-adjusting their position. He wanted to call out, but his mouth felt awfully dry. His fingers curled slightly; something, linen perhaps, brushed the back of his hands. There was linen under his fingers, too. Sheets?

Slowly, without moving anything else, he opened his eyes. Surprisingly soft, flickering light flooded his senses; torches or oil lamps, something primitive that used flames, the winged knight guessed. He turned his head; it felt like it had been filled with cotton and was pounding slightly. His vision was still a bit blurry, but he blinked rapidly and it cleared quickly.

"You are awake."

The voice belonged to a tall figure sitting next to... his bed, he assumed. The winged warrior recognized a dark blue cape, a metallic mask not unlike his own and a pair of yellow, glowing eyes focused on him. He also noticed how one hand moved to rest on what he guessed was a weapon's hilt.

"Sir Meta Knight, right?," he muttered, just to make sure. He grimaced when his throat hurt and he just barely managed to bite back a coughing fit.

The figure, now clearly visible to him, stood, blocking some of the light. Galacta watched Meta Knight nod. He shifted slightly to sit up, pushing himself back so he could lean his back against the headboard of what was indeed a bed.

"You have been out for two days," Meta Knight said and turned his head to the side to look at something out of Galacta's view, "In case you were wondering."

The winged warrior rose a brow. He had indeed wanted to ask that.

Looking himself over, he found that his armor had been taken off, just like his mask and his shirt. Bandages covered the majority of his chest and arms; they smelled of medicine and disinfectants.

"I am going to assume the king of this place is granting me his help, then?"

Sir Meta Knight turned back toward him and Galacta was sure he heard a very amused chuckle. What was so funny? Confused - and admittedly a little offended by being laughed at like this - he opened his mouth again to talk, but a violent cough came out instead. He fought it, but he still felt it in the back of his dry, raw throat.

Meta Knight had reached for a glass of water on a small table next to the bed and held it out for Galacta to take. The winged warrior felt a small sting of hurt pride, but he was too thirsty to focus on it, so he merely glared when he lifted his left arm to reach out. A clinking noise and his movement was forced to a stop - a chain had been wrapped around his wrist.

His gaze followed it to a metal hook on the wall. He turned his head around sharply to look at Meta Knight once more. The water forgotten, he narrowed his eyes at the blue warrior: "What is the meaning of this?"

He got an almost tired sigh and the other set the glass back down on the table.

"It's nothing but a safety measure to protect the castle's residents."

Galacta huffed angrily, wings flaring up behind him and knocking against the wall and headboard. "From me?," he asked, "What do you think what kind of warrior I am?" He tried to snap, but his voice cracked and he had to bite back another cough.

Sir Meta Knight folded his arms over his chest: "One who was once the most powerful warrior of the universe."

"Greatest," Galacta corrected, still angry. It was true he possessed a lot of power and skill, too, but this wasn't what defined his title.

"Either way, you do pose a potential threat to the residents, Sir Galacta Knight. Even without this title."

Galacta almost hissed; as if he needed to be reminded of his failure! And how could Meta Knight believe a knight of his Majesty, the Great King Magolor, would attack innocents? !

He opened his mouth to give Meta Knight a piece of his mind, but the other knight walked right past him toward the door without another glance. The heavy oak wood opened with and fell shut. Galacta was alone.

He glared at the spot where Meta Knight had disappeared angrily, then used his free hand to grab the glass of water on the nightstand. He downed it with quick, greedy gulps; the liquid stung, but it also felt incredibly relieving. His anger diminished - a bit.

He cast another glance toward the door, then looked around the room. It was small, so small in fact that his bed occupied the majority of the space, though it had been pushed into the very corner of the room. If he turned his head as far as he could to the left, he could see a small window with a pair of plain, white curtains closed in front of it. A tiny nightstand stood next to the bed with its simple linen sheets; the now empty glass and an oil lamp that threw flickering shadows over the walls blocked all available room on it. He also noticed a dresser, made of bleached wood, standing in a corner next to the door. A chair stood next to it and Galacta noted how his - currently rather damaged - armor and clothing had been placed on it. Right next to him stood another chair and Galacta assumed that this was where Meta Knight had been sitting while he waited for him to wake. The thought of this... this wannabe-Greatest Warrior watching him while he was unconscious caused the flame of his anger to flare once more. His fists clenched.

He shook his head slightly, biting back a small groan when it made him dizzy, and pushed back the covers. This wasn't going to help him, he had to take actions instead. The air felt surprisingly cool compared to the heat he remembered from when he had passed out. He turned and swung both legs over the edge of the bed. His head protested with another bout of nausea, but he fought it until it ceased.

Carefully, so he wouldn't fall, Galacta stood. The chain creaked complainingly. The pink-haired knight gave it an almost disgusted look and searched for his abilites deep inside of him. Without his lance it would be harder to channel them properly, but he would have to work with what he had.

Using fire was most likely a bad idea, seeing as this was metal and he didn't want to add burns to his injuries. The same went for lightning; shocking himself didn't strike him has a very good idea.  
That left the wind. Great NOVA, he could only hope that that would work.

His mouth set in a firm line, he held two fingers outstretched over the chain a good deal away from his wrist and tugged at the magic that rested within his mind. He could feel just how weak it still was, but if he channeled it properly...

A weak, useless breeze shook the chain. Galacta frowned. He concentrated and started another try. This time, the wind came in a sharp, harsh wave that left a deep cut in the metal. An unpleasant pounding started in his head when he drained the wavering magic so quickly, but not even this could override the small pang of triumph. He yanked at his wrist a few times and the material ripped with a sharp _CLANG._

Now it was an easy task to unwrap the chain and drop it on the bed. Galacta couldn't help but smirk slightly - he didn't need this Captain guy with the key. He walked over to the chair next to the door and picked up his shirt. To his surprise, someone seemed to have cleaned and repaired it. The linen was white and the golden stitching on the edges glowed slightly in the flickering light of the oil lamp. The repaired rips and holes littered the textile like scars and Galacta made a mental note to replace it soon.

For now, he was perfectly fine with it as it was though and he slipped into it quickly. His arm hurt when he forced it to move, adding to the extra difficulty his wings provided. He managed though, he had dressed himself while injured countless times before.

He was still wearing his pants, so all he had to put on after the shirt was his boots. A short glance at his armor told him that it would do him no good to try and wear it now - just as he had guessed when he first looked around the room, it was still in bad shape. He decided not to wear his mask either, he doubted he would get in a battle any time soon and he really saw no point in going through the trouble of putting it on with his horns when he didn't really _need _it.

The winged warrior looked around the room a last time, then pushed open the door Meta Knight had left through earlier. He would find the king and - as much as this would hurt his pride - explain what had happened, then ask for an escort or possibly a ship to return to his king. He was still worried about what his lord would say about him losing the title and he could almost hear the scorning laughter of his comrades - but still, he would have to face this eventually. And that would perhaps also help him understand the fragments of memories that showed him enclosed in crystal, immobilized and vulnerable, far away from his home... He shivered. Those weren't real. There was no way they could be.  
He shook his head, hair flying from side to side, then set off to find the one in charge around here.

* * *

_A rough breeze carried the scent of salt and seaweed across the coast. Well hidden between a ring of jagged, high rocks lay a camp of the Galaxy Soldier Army. To be honest, it was little more than a bunch of tents, set up so they formed a ring around a couple of camp fires that, now that it was early morning, only consisted of cold ashes._

_In one of the tents, several bunk beds that looked like they would collapse as soon as you gave them a sharp look lined the walls. They held the newest recruits, young warriors who hadn't even trained for two full months yet. One of them, a boy with tousled, blue hair shifted under his blanket and yawned in his sleep, mouth opening wide to reveal two rows of milk teeth, before he rolled over._

_Someone lifted up the lose piece of tarpaulin that formed the entrance and slipped inside. The light made it hard to see any details, turned the newcomer into a mere silhouette. With slow, quiet steps, they approached the bunk with the blue-haired boy. Said boy turned around again, muttered something, but didn't wake up. A slight, surpressed chuckle escaped the intruder when they leaned closer._

_"Meta," they whispered very close to the boy's ear, "Meta, wake up!"_

_And with that, the intruder dropped a large lump of wet, salty seaweed on Meta's face. The reaction was imminent: He shot up with a cry, arms flailing, sputtering when the seaweed got into his mouth and icy water ran down his neck. His flailing quickly caused him to become tangled in his sheets and land on the floor._  
_He made a sound like "Urghmp" and glared up at the other, grabbing the drenched, green stems and chucking them at the silhouette. They dodged and laughed. Meta struggled out of the mess of textile he was wrapped into now and came to his feet, all the while wiping at his face furiously._

_"Garlude," he grumbled, "Stop it!"_  
_Garlude stepped aside and the light illuminated the side of her face instead, showing her fine, soft features better. Her skin had an almost beige tint to it and her eyes were more almond-shaped than Meta's. Her lilac, thick hair fell in elegant curls around her face._

_"Hey, you two," a voice grumbled from the other end off the tent, "If you want to continue your daily prank-session, do it outside!"_

_Garlude giggled while Meta felt his face heat up and stammered an apology. He grabbed his friend by the wrist and led her outside._  
_Frost covered the sandy ground and the ashes that remained from last night's camp fires. Meta shivered slightly in the cool air._

_"Why?," he asked through gritted teeth, "Why do you keep doing those things? We'll both get into serious trouble if you keep this up!"_

_Garlude only chuckled and ran one hand through her hair. She grabbed a piece of seaweed from Meta's shoulder and flicked it away._

_"Oh NOVA," she replied finally, "You're taking things way too serious."_

_The boy looked up from where he had been inspecting the damage that had been done to his shirt and gave her a pained look._

_"We're going to war here," he reminded her._

_Garlude shrugged: "Still. Actually, that's even more of a reason. You know, Meta, there is enough depressing stuff happening already."_

_"Meta __**Knight**__," he corrected her, frowning slightly, then went back to looking at the stains on his shirt._

_Garlude rolled her eyes: "Of course, how could I forget, oh mighty Star Warrior? Come on now," she said and grabbed his arm, "Lets get you cleaned up."_

_And with that, she dragged the protesting Star Warrior off towards the shore so he could wash his shirt._

* * *

Silence lay over the hallways while Galacta walked through the castle. He had passed by windows a while ago and found that it was night outside; stars glittered in the sky and a full, round moon cast milky light and gentle shadows over the walls. A few lone torches glowed weakly, flames nearly extinguished.  
Silence filled the air and had it not been for the faint clicking noises of his shoes on the stone floor, Galacta might have believed that he had gone deaf. No guards, uh? Really, this place was... strange. Didn't they know how easy it would be for an intruder to secretly murder all of the royal family? !  
He gave a small, displeased growl at the thought.

Then he stopped abruptly, wings perking up a little. He hadn't imagined that sound just now, had he? No, there it was again: footsteps. A lot quieter than his own, but that wasn't much of a surprise; after all, his boots were covered in metal to protect his feet in battle.

Galacta hesitated. He knew he shouldn't be wandering around the castle. Even if Sir Meta Knight had told the other residents about his presence, they would still expect him to be in that room from earlier. The knight shook his head slightly and bit back a sigh. There was no use in getting into a fight if he wanted the king of the castle to help him. He stretched his wings experimentally. They felt a little stiff, a bit sore even, but he would manage. He bent his knees a little and catapulted himself up, then gracefully beat his wings to steady himself. A quick look around revealed a balcony from the floor over the one he had been walking in. He maneuvered himself over to the railing - his wings whacked against the walls and ceiling painfully, but he managed to land safely. Crouching down on the fortunately rather wide balustrade, he folded his wings again and glanced down.

A young man was passing by where he had stood before. He wore an orange... uniform? The warrior wasn't quite sure if it was, but the spear the man carried fortified the idea that this was an uniformed castle guard. Well, that was to be expected, right?  
He watched as the presumed guard walked by and disappeared around the corner. Galacta's muscles tensed when he readied himself to jump down again.

"What do you think you're doing, mister?"

The warrior jumped and nearly fell off his spot in a very ungraceful manner. Just barely, he managed to catch himself and turn around to face whoever had spoken. Light shone right into his eyes and he shut them instinctively. With one hand up to protect himself from the glaring brightness, he blinked them open again. Someone was pointing a flashlight at him. Flashlight and torches? What...?

'_No_', he decided, he would deal with this later.  
The person who held the flashlight was a young girl in a dress, hair tied back into a ponytail that fell down barely to her hips. Large, green eyes were trained on him suspiciously. That girl had guts, encountering someone who was two and a half times her size and just confronting them, he noted. He had seen her before, hadn't he? When he first arrived, hadn't she confronted him then, too?  
Absorbed in his own thoughts, he hadn't even noticed that he never answered her question. Brow furrowing, she put her free hand on her hip and insisted: "I asked you what you are doing."

Now how could he answer to that?  
"I...," he hesitated for a second, then straightened up and forced more confidence into his voice, "I am in search of the king."  
The girl stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and... was that amusement? At least she pointed the flashlight away from his face. Grateful for that, he let his hand fall down. She was glaring at him now, though he couldn't figure out why. Surely it was a good and reasonable thing if he wanted to talk to the ruler of this place?

But for some reason, her voice was cold when she answered him: "Well, King Dedede is asleep right now. And I can tell you that he wo-"

"Fumu!"

The sound of steps coming closer quickly interrupted her. Both the girl and Galacta spun around. Two people were running towards them. By their armor - and perhaps the drawn swords they held - the pink-haired knight decided they were knights. Meta Knight's knights. Were they out to get him?  
He took a step back, hand straying over to where his lance usually was in its holster, but he only found empty air. NOVA curse it!

"Fumu, get away from him!," one of the knights called out and seconds later, he - Galacta was going to assume it was a guy by the pitch of his voice - had pushed the girl behind himself. She protested, but was ignored.  
The second knight went and stood next to his comrade; both had their swords pointed at Galacta, but at least it was more of a defensive stance. The winged warrior took another step back, hands rising up slowly. It wasn't quite a surrendering gesture, but most definitely one to show he wasn't going to be aggressive. Pride or not, he was very well aware that he was unarmed for the moment and those knights weren't. He could probably take them out with his abilities alone, but it was hardly wise to start a fight in a castle he neither knew, nor had allies in. Talking it was, then.

"What do you think I was going to do to her?," he asked with an almost arrogant expression on his face, one brow risen, "Hurt her? She's just a kid."

There was a brief silence; Meta Knight's knights glanced at each other and nodded. To Galacta Knight's immense relief, they sheathed their swords.

"We will bring you to Sir Meta Knight then," the first one announced; his teal and brown armor reflected the light as he turned around, motioning for Galacta to follow. The warrior thought about protesting at first, then decided it would be quite rude to do so while he was in their castle. He didn't want to give his king a bad reputation on top of it all, so he nodded and obeyed, then started to walk between the knights. He kept his head and wings held high with pride though, not ready to admit defeat of any sort.

They had only gotten a few meters down the hallway when a call stopped them: "What about me?"

That girl again, Fumu, wasn't it? Galacta felt compelled to roll his eyes. Sir Meta Knight's knights had turned to look at each other again.

"What do you think, Blade?," the teal one asked his companion.

"I say we let her come along, if she wishes so," 'Blade' replied and Galacta decided that this one had to be a woman with such a voice. Quieter, she added: "You know she will follow us anyway, Sword. Fumu isn't one to give up easily."

Her fellow knight nodded slowly and waved for the girl to tag along and once she had caught up, the group started to walk a second time.

Sword, Blade and Fumu moved through the halls with the confidence of people who had been living here for decades. Galacta Knight however, as much as he hated to admit it, felt lost within minutes. In his eyes, this place was a freaking maze.  
Neither of them talked on the way, not even Fumu who looked like she was the kind of person to ask a lot of questions. More guards like the one Galacta had seen earlier passed them, but they didn't show any interest in them. Secretly, the pink-haired warrior found them to be a bit unsettling with their entirely black eyes that followed the group until they were out of sight.

And then they rounded a corner and a bright dot in his mind that had been almost subtle before seemed to turn glaring, had it actually been a light. Even though light and brightness were the closest to what his kind felt there, it was still more of a metaphor. No words could describe what was actually there. It was quite an interesting topic, to be honest, but this wasn't the time for it. Not when the reason for the sudden increase of "light" stood about two meters ahead, in front of a large, wooden door.

Sir Meta Knight was talking quietly to a bulky looking man in a uniform similar to the ones the guards wore; he seemed tougher though, with a sword hanging from his belt and one eye covered by a large, orange patch. The two paused when the group showed up. Meta Knight turned back toward the man and muttered something; the addressed guard nodded briefly and left.  
Sword and Blade led Fumu and Galacta Knight toward the door that had been left open; light fell into the hall there, outlining Meta Knight's form as a shadow on the ground.

The masked knight scanned the newcomers and for a brief second, his yellow gaze locked on Galacta's red one. The winged warrior narrowed his eyes, anger flaring up once more, but before his temper could bring him to make a rude remark, Meta Knight looked away.

"Please come in," he said and stepped through the door. Sword and Blade followed him immediately. Fumu glanced back at Galacta for a moment, then she entered the room, too. The winged warrior ruffled his wings and went after her with the bad feeling of stepping into a lion's den. They could kill him in there, dispose of the body, no one would ever know what had happened. He pushed that thought aside quickly. Since when had he become so distrusting? Three of them were knights, of course they would follow the Code of Chivalry!

The room behind the door wasn't very big; three seats stood in front of a TV; on the side lay a rug made of tied-together brushwood; a couple of shelves carrying books and jars of candy adorned the walls and a low table stood in a corner. There was a doorway visible on one wall, but whatever lay behind it was hidden by a long, lilac curtain.

'_So this is where he lives_,' Galacta Knight thought, and immediately after corrected himself, _'Where _**they**_ live, of course_.' He felt unreasonably uncomfortable about making that mistake. Because he was paying special attention to the wannabe Greatest Warrior, he decided. He didn't deserve any attention from him!

Shuffling his wings, Galacta went to lean against the wall next to the door. At the very corner of his mind, he found that this would put the smallest distance possible between him and the door, his only escape route, should he need it. The warrior almost visibly shook his head to push that thought aside again. He didn't have to be scare-, no, worried. Scared? As if!

His gaze wandered across the room again until it found the three knights and Fumu; they had sat down on the brushwood-mat, eyes locked on him.

"Judging from your faces, I'm going to assume you want to ask me something," the winged warrior said, careful to keep his voice calm and almost bored, "Go ahead then."

"Who are you?" Fumu spoke up first, before any of the knights even had a chance to open their mouths. She had obviously been holding her questions back before, but now they broke free.  
"I know your name is Galacta Knight, but-," she continued until he interrupted her with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"That's Sir Galacta Knight for you, Miss," he said, "I happen to be the head of King Magolor's army and the Greatest Warrior of the universe," he narrowed his eyes slightly, but not enough to make his anger obvious, "Or more, used to be the latter."

This didn't have the effect he had hoped for. His lord was well-known all around the universe, he ruled the majority of it. But no, there were no signs of awe for him and his status. It was unsettling, really.

"Wait," Fumu spoke again, "Used to be?"

That wasn't the point he had been trying to make! His fists clenched when hurt pride sent the slightest hint of a red across his cheeks.

"Of course," he hissed, tone failing to stay neutral, "Only one warrior can carry this title."

The confusion radiating from Fumu, Sword and Blade unnerved him. Surely they had to know? Meta Knight must have been bragging with his victory? With his new title?

"We will discuss this later," the blue-haired knight cut into his thoughts and the authority in his voice silenced any questions his knights or Fumu might have wanted to ask. "Sir Galacta Knight," he continued, "The main questions we want to have the answers to are what you are doing here and what you plan on doing."

The winged warrior rose a brow and shifted a bit. Well then, shouldn't those be obvious?

"I woke up in a forest not far from here, so I went to seek out the local knights," he replied, voice smooth again, "As for what I plan on doing, for now I merely want to return to my king."

There was a pause. Galacta held Meta Knight's gaze; he hadn't been lying, at the moment he only wished to return to his lord's side. He would reclaim his title eventually, of course, but first he had to make sure... He wasn't even sure just what he had to assure himself of, just that he had to.

Sir Meta Knight eventually broke the silence: "Very well. We will gladly make sure you can return to your king. What planet is his castle on?"

A wave of relief washed over him, drowning out the annoyance at how a knight could make decisions without his king's consent. He would be able to go home! He was so close to seeing his friends and comrades again, he only had to tell them where. A slight smile appeared on his lips at the thought.

"Planet Popstar."


	3. Madness Rising

"Popstar?"

Blade was the first to speak after Galacta Knight had told them where his king supposedly resided. Meta Knight remained silent for a while longer, eyes trained on the winged warrior that stood next to his door. He could see clearly how the small smile that had forced its way onto his face melted away like snow in the sun. Okay, that was more poetic than he had intended it to be, but still a rather accurate description.

"Popstar, yes," Galacta Knight repeated, folding his arms in front of his chest, "In a region called Dreamland."

Meta Knight could tell by the way the winged warrior tensed up that he was troubled by their reactions - or lack thereof. He himself felt oddly calm despite this turn of events. It was entirely impossible that another king was residing in the area, he would know. Especially if said king had an entire army at his disposal, along with the Greatest Warrior of the Universe to lead it for him. No, this was impossible. Maybe he was talking about a different Popstar? But that couldn't be the solution either, a region called Dreamland only existed on this Popstar.

"This is insulting!"

Galacta Knight's hiss of anger tore Meta out of his thoughts. The former Greatest Warrior had taken a step toward where the four of them sat; his wings were bristling with anger. Meta Knight wasn't sure what had been said, but it was obvious he had to intervene now. His hand strayed toward Galaxia's hilt and from the corner of his eye, he could see how Sword and Blade discretly readied themselves, too. To be honest though, he would prefer if this ended without bloodshed.

"Sir Galacta Knight," he said, voice steady and composed, "Our current location is the castle of Dreamland, on planet Popstar. There is no king named Magolor around, nor has there been for as long as we have been here."

Galacta Knight glared at him; his hands were opening and closing like he itched to have a weapon. He shook his head until strands of pink hair fell into his face. Combined with the ruffled feathers, it gave him an almost insane look.

"Liar," he spat at Meta, shaking with anger.

"You have not been around here for some time. It's possible that a King Magolor used to rule the planet before we arrived," Meta Knight stated and forced himself to remain calm. He didn't like where this was going, it didn't look like they would be able to get rid of Galacta any time soon now.

The winged warrior opened his mouth to speak, but Fumu piped up first: "Sir Meta Knight, I have read all the history books and Curio's reports on his research, too," she paused nervously when she found the gaze of the still enraged Galacta on her, but continued to speak, "There... there has never been a king named Magolor. Or a large army that doesn't consist of Waddle Dees."

Meta looked from the girl to Galacta Knight. He seemed to have calmed down a little, though his posture was still tense, but the feathers on his wings didn't look as fluffed out as before. Perhaps it was because of how young Fumu still was? The Why didn't matter right now, though.

"Sir Galacta Knight," he addressed the warrior again, "I can assure you we will... investigate this matter. As for now, I'd like to invite you to stay at the castle until this is sorted out."

He wasn't all that fond of the idea, but better have this warrior where he could keep an eye on him than have him roam around the town or, worse, get into a fight with Kirby. For all Meta Knight knew right now, Galacta Knight could be anyone, a dangerous lunatic who had accepted hallucinations as memories. Then again, to be completely honest, Meta Knight saw nothing but a warrior whose pride had been hurt badly and who was confused on top of that. Still, what Galacta remembered _couldn't_ be true.

Also, he wasn't sure if the winged warrior would even accept his offer. Meta Knight didn't bear him any ill will, but he didn't know where exactly they stood, either.

"I will talk to your king about this," Galacta Knight finally replied, voice composed and smooth like it had been earlier.

Meta Knight bit back an amused response; his mouth twitched into a smile for a moment, hidden under his mask. When he had woken first, the pink-haired man had mentioned the king, too. Maybe it was good to set his picture of Dreamland's ruler straight.

"Very well," the masked knight agreed and nodded at his knights who looked like they wanted to say something. They understood and stayed silent, and so did Fumu. "The king will be sleeping for another few hours," Meta Knight went on, "until then... Fumu, your parents should be up already, it's past dawn."

The girl stared at him, but nodded. Meta Knight stood up.

"It's time we pay them a visit then," he turned to look at his knights, "Sword, Blade, you are in charge of the morning patrol around the castle. Captain Waddle Doo will help you."

Both nodded firmly and got up, too. Fumu muttered something that, or so Meta Knight guessed, wasn't very flattering, then she followed the others' example. Sword and Blade gave them one last look, then left the room, their steps fading into the distance quickly. There was a short silence when the remaining three listened to them disappearing deeper into the castle. Finally, Meta Knight cleared his throat.

"Lets go," he said, wrapped his cape around himself and started walking.

* * *

Had he been told to draw "awkward", Galacta would have made a sketch of his current situation.  
Around a round table in a large apartment sat the Cabinet Minister Parm, his wife Lady Memu and their kids, a boy with long bangs called Bun and, of course, Fumu who looked like she would fall asleep any second. No wonder really, she had been up late during the past night. Sir Meta Knight had found a spot, too, and he himself sat in-between Bun and the blue-haired knight he disliked so much.

The only good thing about this was that it kept his mind from drifting into a mantra of "They're lying, we can't be on Popstar, what is going on, what if they are right, what if I will never get to see my lord again, but that is impossible, they're lying..." again. It was to be questioned if the curious gazes of the Cabinet Minister and his wife were that much better though. At least Bun seemed not to pay too much attention to him - or maybe he just preferred to concentrate on his plate of fried eggs instead. Really, the boy seemed very... devoted to stuffing all the food into his mouth like someone was going to steal it.

Galacta had a plate in front of him as well, but his held a slice of toast coated in jelly. A cup of tea stood next to him; the steam rising from the hot liquid carried a very appetizing scent and Galacta was quite tempted to act the same way as Bun. He hadn't had proper food in... weeks? He couldn't be sure, but it felt like it. But he had to stick with his manners - King Magolor's knights did not stuff their faces in such an undignified way!

And so he ate slowly, with careful bites, occasionally sipping from the tea in the most refined way possible. His eyes darted from side to side while he did, almost as if he was awaiting an attack; his wings were drawn close to his body, so close in fact, it hurt a bit. Why was he so NOVA forsaken nervous?

He glanced toward Sir Meta Knight who held a cup of tea in one of his gloved hands without drinking from it. Parm and Memu were looking from him to Galacta and back continually, though they tried to hide it; meanwhile, Fumu stared into her bowl of cornflakes like it held answers to all questions in the world.

A tense silence filled the air, almost like electricity; it made the small hairs on the back of Galacta Knight's neck rise. He had never been so glad to finish a meal before. Once his plate and cup were both empty, he muttered his thanks and excused himself, then headed for the door.  
Just as he opened it, he heard a quiet splash behind him and glanced back - Fumu had landed face-first in her breakfast. The winged warrior shook his head, slipped outside and closed the door.

Once outside, he walked down the hall a few meters, until he reached a window. Outside, he could oversee the town at the foot of the hill as well as the forest behind it. The air seemed to waver from the heat outside, even though it was cool inside. Between the green leaves on the trees he also spotted a few dapples of red and yellow. So summer was coming to an end, hm?

Not that he paid that thought much mind; his gaze wandered back to the village. Now that he was taking a closer look, the way the houses were positioned actually did look like the town he knew...  
No. No, his home was bigger, the houses taller and painted in brighter colors.  
But where _was_ his home? Just... just assuming this _was_ Popstar, where had the town he knew gone?

He shivered slightly, wings twitching. His eyes closed and he leaned forward until his forehead touched the cool glass of the window. The chaotic, almost panicked thoughts in his head continued to swirl, unaffected by the feeling. Galacta Knight forced them to part as he delved deep into his own mind, searching for an answer, a clue, anything that might help him understand...

_Cold, hard material surrounded him, shackled him, threatened to suffocate him. His muscles strained, he fought the grip, but the _**something **_around him didn't budge, kept him still in place.  
He screamed, mouth wide open, but there was no sound here, just the smooth surface of his prison and he tried to move and twist again, but he was immobilized completely._  
_Anger flared up inside of him, seemed to burn through his insides like acid and there was despair, too, mixing with it and then he let out another soundless scream._  
_Trapped, he was trapped, imprisoned, _**helpless** _._

Galacta's eyes shot open and he found himself back in the castle. His breath came in short, shallow gasps and he could feel cold sweat on his brow and neck. He forced his body to stop trembling, a hard task, but he managed by telling himself he didn't want to be found so weak looking. Which reminded him...

The knight looked around nervously, but the hallway was empty. He could hear voices from inside the Cabinet Minister's apartment, so he decided he should be fine for the moment.  
The winged warrior leaned his head against the window pane again, though he kept his eyes wide open this time. He wrapped both arms around himself and concentrated on slowing down his breathing.

"What is happening?," he muttered to himself in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, "Am I losing my mind?"

Meta Knight glanced up and down the hallway. No sign of the warrior with the white-feathered wings. He bit back a sigh; he should have followed Galacta the moment the knight with the pink hair left the apartment. What if he had left the castle? Meta Knight didn't think he would outright attack anyone, but he still posed a great potential threat to the villagers.

On top of it all, Galacta Knight seemed to have disguised his aura, so Meta Knight had no way of finding his presence in his mind, either. A mixture of worry and frustration chased him through the castle and he had to force his feet to slow down to a dignified pace.

The sun shone brightly through the windows and suddenly, the knight realized that the king had to be up by now. He turned around sharply and walked toward the throne room. Galacta had mentioned that he wanted to talk to the king. Somehow, it didn't strike Meta Knight as a very good idea to possibly let him meet Dedede on his own.

He rounded a corner and halted in his tracks. The door to the throne room had been opened just a small bit and peeking inside was no other than the knight Meta had been searching for. Voices sounded from behind the doors and the blue-haired knight quickly recognized them as Escargon and Dedede.

"I don't care if that cake was a gift, I want it!"

"Your majesty, could you n-"

The walls seemed to shake with the unmistakable sound of Dedede's trusty mallet hitting the floor. Meta Knight hurried over to where Galacta stood and pushed the door shut. With his back pressed against the wood, he looked at the other knight-

The winged warrior turned around to face him while the argument continued inside. Perplexion filled his features and Meta couldn't help but grin under his mask.

"That... that is the king...?"

He nodded and Galacta stared at him, his aggression towards the blue-clad knight forgotten for the moment.

"How can he rule a country? How could a country _make him their ruler_?," the winged knight asked, running one hand through his hair in an almost nervous gesture.

"Ah, well," Meta replied, amusement clear in his voice, "You see, he is a kind of... dictator, you could say."

Galacta bristled: "What?! Why would you, a knight, serve a dictator?!"

He only got a tired shrug in response: "So? He has yet to do something worse than steal cake and race a Star Warrior child. It's not like he has any evil intentions."

Except for ordering Demon Beasts for his own entertainment. But Meta was not going to mention that; it was actually quite nice to talk to Galacta when you didn't get to feel his hostile side. And he was not going to ruin this almost-friendliness by leading the former Greatest Warrior to believe he was siding with demons. Not to mention that those events lay in the distant past now.

Galacta Knight looked like he wanted to reply with a sharp remark, but shut his mouth again without saying anything. He glanced to the side: "I... I think I understand."

Meta Knight tilted his head curiously at that, but the other knight didn't seem too keen on continuing the conversation in this direction.

"So his majesty's approval of my presence at the castle is not needed?," he asked, clearly avoiding the topic. Meta decided to not to pry, but made a mental note to investigate on the matter later.

"No. As long as the Cabinet Minister and the knights agree, King Dedede won't mind, unless he sees a rival for his position in you."

Galacta nodded and Meta Knight noticed how he tensed up a little, his expression changing to a less welcoming one when his usual attitude returned.

"Very well then. I will be going now."

Meta Knight held back a heavy sigh when he heard the cold tone with the underlying hostility from the other. So they were back to this already?  
"You are welcome to have lunch with us later," Dedede's knight replied, dipping his head slightly. Galacta reacted with a firm nod, eyes narrowed, then turned around sharply and walked down the hallway. Meta felt his gaze wander over the pink-haired warrior's wings to his hips; they swayed slightly as he walked and some small part of his mind noted how slender Galacta's body was for a strong warrior.

'_Maybe those abilities are taking a physical toll?_,' he wondered while the winged knight disappeared around the corner. Maybe that would also explain how Galacta Knight's skin was such an almost sicklish pale color, while his own, Meta Knight's, was a dark shade of brown.

A second later, Meta shook his head. That wasn't his business, interesting as it might be. He should rather be worrying if Galacta would leave the castle, the only place he could keep a direct eye on him, and possibly endanger the residents of the village. Brushing back a strand of hair that had slipped out of the bond holding his ponytail together, he set off to find Captain Doo.

* * *

Galacta Knight strolled through the hallways in a slow pace; at first sight, it seemed like he was taking his time to inspect his surroundings. Truth was though, the winged warrior still had no idea how to properly keep his bearings in this place. The fact his mind was still in constant danger of falling back into the storm of thoughts and false memories as it had earlier didn't help either.

He had, however, spent the time between finding the throne room and having breakfast with the Cabinet Minister's family memorizing the way to the guest room he had woken up in. Or more, he had stumbled upon said room by accident and then tried to remember certain marks - torches, curtains, paintings - to find it again.

And really, it seemed to have worked: The room he had been looking for came into sight soon. He slipped inside, wings drawn close to his back so they wouldn't get stuck between doorframe and door. Once inside, he looked around carefully. The oil lamp didn't wasn't lit now, but bright sunlight filtered through the window. Feathers bristling slightly, he noticed how the curtains had been drawn back - someone had been in here while he was out. The broken chain on the bed was gone also and the sheets had been folded neatly.

A quick glance to the side told him that fortunately, whoever had been here had not touched his mask. As much as he hated wearing the thing - outside of battle that was, it was quite nice to not be stabbed in the face - it had been a hassle to get it custom made for his horns.

The winged warrior stood, overseeing the room again. Now what?

Absentmindedly, he started to run one hand through his hair again - ah, right. He pushed one hand into the pocket of his pants until his fingers brushed against something familiar made of velvet. He pulled it out - a ribbon, about a centimeter wide and ten centimeters long. With quick, skilled motions, he braided his hair at the back of his head and tied the bond around it. Not that his hair would get in the way much, it didn't even reach his shoulders, but he preferred to keep it out of people's reach. People, every single one of them, could turn out to be enemies any second. And in battle, hair that could be grabbed often proved as fatal.

He was done with his task. But... now what? He could stray around the castle some more, but to be honest, the thick walls and often window-less corridors already felt uncomfortably constricting to him. His wings twitched involuntarily at the thought. That decided it.

Without further ado, he left the guest room and searched for the nearest possible exit. A balcony, a window, anything would do. Ah, there, a few meters ahead was one, a wide row of windows without glass. Galacta quickened his steps until he reached them and hopped light-footed onto the windowsill. He remained in a crouching position on the stone and looked down.

Far below, he saw the waves of the sea rolling against cliffs, water splashing up high, but not nearly high enough to reach him. The screeching on seagulls filled the air and a hot, surprisingly dry breeze ruffled his feathers. Galacta closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He felt a few lose hairs tickle his face when the wind moved them. Just during this brief moment, his heart felt light and free.

The warrior leaned forward, further and further, and felt his feet lose touch with the stone of the windowsill. Wings folded tightly and eyes shut, he fell face first. The air on his face felt sharp and dusty and salty, all at once.

He lifted his eyelids and spread his wings wide only a few meters over the water and cliffs. With strong, steady wingbeats, he brought himself up high, then dove down again to fly close to the water's surface for a while, further outside and away from the cliffs and breaking waves. He stretched out one arm while the rest of his body remained tense and stiff to stay in the best possible position to fly. His fingertips broke the surface and drops of cool water flew through the air, glittering in the sunlight. He watched them with a sudden pang of happiness and content, then flew up high once more.

He hovered several meters over the castle's roof then, legs dangling down while he looked around and wings beating lazily to keep him up. He had to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight with one hand in order to see.

'_Hm, where to go, where to go?_,' he thought and tilted his head, _'The village, maybe? Or further out over the sea?_'

Then a thought struck him and his feathers ruffled uncomfortably. His weapons. His lance and shield. He hadn't seen them anywhere around the castle and while he wouldn't put it beyond Meta Knight to hide them from him, he didn't remember bringing them in the first place. But he needed those. Perhaps they would still lay around the spot where he had woken up first, in that forest?

Galacta dove down once more, but this time, he caught himself earlier and flew over to where the lush green leaves grew, dotted with gold and red here and there. He heard a few shouts when he crossed over the village, but since nothing was hurtled at him he didn't pay them much mind. Actually, he was quite glad for that part; while traveling without the rest of the army, he had been mistaken for an attacker more than once. Of course, as he remembered with pride, his attackers had - literally - fallen to their knees and begged for his forgiveness as soon as they realized who he was. Admittedly, he continued that thought with a frown, it was more of a 'Please don't drag me back to the king and throw me in the dungeon' kind of aplogy than an 'I'm sorry I hurt you because I didn't realize you are one of those who protect us' kind. He still wondered how he got a reputation like that, he wasn't... he hadn't been that bad, had he?

_Enclosed, immobilized, unable to move, to scream. He wanted to get out, it physically hurt to be confined like this and he squirmed, but there was no freedom, just the cool material around him, no air, nothing and he thought he was going to suffocate, but not even that he could do. His fingers curled ever to slightly, nails scratching uselessly against his prison, he wanted out, he wanted to move-!_

The painful feeling of branches hitting him in the gut brought Galacta back to his senses. He struggled to stop his fall for a few seconds, then he hit the ground. The air was forced out of his lungs upon impact and he gasped, drawing in short, harsh breaths afterwards. Cold sweat coated his brow and every inch of his skin seemed to be covered in scratches that burnt when the salty liquid found its way into the tiny wounds.

Galacta tried to grit his teeth, but gave up on that quickly when it prevented him from getting the air he needed so badly. Eventually, he managed to push himself up on his hands and knees. A quick glance over his shoulders showed him his wings ruffled, the feathers pushed into the wrong direction and leaves and small twigs stuck in-between them. His breathing slowed down and he wiped his brow with one hand, not even noticing the smear of dirt he left there. He needed to calm down, he shouldn't let those weird images, those _false _images, mess with his head. Absentmindedly, he started to pick the small reminders of his rough landing from his wings and brushed the feathers back down.

His mind, in the meantime, struggled to settle down, to fight back the memories of what he had seen only minutes before. They threatened to overwhelm him and for a moment, Galacta was sure he would fall back into them. He clutched his wing, fingers digging into the fragile skin under the feathers. A quiet hiss escaped him, but the small jab of pain rushing into his brain chased away the haunting images. The winged warrior exhaled in relief.

But as he stood up, dusted himself off and started to look around, he knew that he had not found a permanent solution to the false memories invading his mind as soon as his concentration failed. They would come back.


End file.
